Category Archives: Celebrity Personal Assistant

ROAD NOT TAKEN

Road Not Taken

Robert Frost’s wonderful poem – The Road Not Taken – beautifully and masterfully alludes to the choices that we make in life, and how sometimes following a more difficult, or less familiar path – while it might not be the easiest way to go – might ultimately bring the greatest fulfillment to your life.

Leaving Canada and moving to L.A. (by myself) – with only a suitcase and two boxes – definitely was my first step on my road not taken. I was already on the familiar path: I had a great job, a loving family, and tons of friends. So when I fell in love with an American man, and subsequently secured a Green Card to come to the USA to be with my American man, only to have the relationship dissolve just as my shiny Green Card showed up in the mail, I had a choice to make.

I could forfeit the Green Card, which would nullify it, making me ineligible to ever apply again; or move to the United States within the required three-month period of issuance of the Green Card, and see what the hell happened. I had one GIRLFRIEND who lived in ALL OF THE U.S., and she lived in L.A., and she said that I could come and stay with her and try it out.

I wish I could say I carefully weighed all my options, but I decided worst case, I could always go back to Canada – granted with my tail between my legs and in defeat, but hopefully with good stories to tell. So I rolled the dice, and started my adventure on my road not taken new life, and landed at LAX the day before my 90-day entrance period expired.

The reality of my decision hit me quickly as I woke up a bit stiff from sleeping on my GIRLFRIEND’s sofa, with no car, no job, and at a time when the Canadian dollar was worth 60 cents to the American dollar. It took months to get a social security card, apply to have my teaching degree accredited for California, and learn how to drive on the freeways so I could get my California driver’s license. And during this time, my savings were dwindling to a scarily low number. My road not taken was starting to feel more like a highway from hell.

My L.A. GIRLFRIEND – whose sofa now felt like home – had an acquaintance that was looking to hire someone to work in his high-end auto-body shop, and she recommended me. At first, I was like, are you serious; me work in an auto-body shop? But GIRLFRIEND reminded me that I wasn’t doing anything, and as it serviced high-end automobiles, she thought that at least I might meet some cute guys driving fancy cars, while waiting for my life in LA to fall into place.

Plus, truthfully, I was staring poverty in the face; and knew I was wearing out not only the sofa in general, but my overall welcome in GIRLFRIEND’s tiny apartment. So, I sucked it up, and once again embraced my road not taken mentality and took my second step along this new path, and accepted the 10 dollar an hour ‘sure be greasy’ job. I remember when I called home and told my father that I had a job for ten dollars an hour working in an auto-body shop, he literally almost peed himself with laughter.

As I still hadn’t rectified my car situation, and this was way before Uber was part of the urban dictionary, I had to walk 2.3 miles every day to my new job at the auto-body shop, and of course 2.3 miles home. My job was the intake girl; I met the owners whose cars had been in accidents and inspected the cars for damage, recorded the mileage, their level of gas and VIN Numbers.

It was an easy job, and I always try to make the best of everything. As the weeks progressed, my knowledge of Spanish increased dramatically – I was the only non-Hispanic working there, other than the owner. I also enjoyed conversing with the customers as they dropped off and picked up their cars, and my daily walks became my daily workout.

After two months, I was quite at home in the auto-body shop, and actually enjoyed my little job. One day a client came into pick up his car. He had a fancy BMW, and we had spoken on many occasions over the course of his car repair, and finally it was ready for pick-up. As he was paying his bill, he looked at me and said, “You know you really don’t look like you belong here. Is this what you want to do with your life?”

And so I told him my story, and who I was, and what I had done, and how it was that I landed in LA. He said that he was a LAWYER, and that he represented actors, producers and writers. As well, one of his clients was looking for an assistant, and would I perhaps be interested in doing that?

I looked at him, and the thoughts that were racing through my head at that time were … ‘An assistant?!?’ … ‘I didn’t go to University for 5 years to become an assistant!’ … ‘I have a Bachelor of Arts, a Bachelor of Education, plus a French linguistics degree.’… ‘Why the hell would I lower myself to be work as an assistant?’

And as these thoughts were flooding my brain, I also felt somewhat angry at LAWYER – as obviously he had not carefully listened when I was regaling him with my life story. But then I took a look around and realized that my ‘5-year University educated ASS’ was sitting in an auto-body shop. So with a smile on my face, I said that “I would love to, absolutely love to be an assistant.”

The following day, LAWYER called me and said that he had spoken to his client about me, a very famous ACTOR-PRODUCER-DIRECTOR, and he wanted to meet me. As I had zero experience in the entertainment industry, I felt like my chances of getting the job were virtually nil, but ACTOR-PRODUCER-DIRECTOR was a handsome man, and I was truthfully more excited to meet him than interview for the position. It was worth the interview just to have a story to tell, even if I didn’t get the job.

As it turned out, ACTOR-PRODUCER-DIRECTOR was more handsome in person than on TV or in the gossip magazines. When ACTOR-PRODUCER-DIRECTOR asked me what I knew about the entertainment industry, I was truthful and said that all I knew was that I liked to watch TV and Movies. I remember him laughing; likely at my candor – as now living here this long in L.A. – my brutal honesty was likely a breath of fresh air to him.

He told me that he was going through a very bitter, public divorce, and had fifty percent custody of his two little kids. So for him, he wanted someone who was compassionate, and also someone who was good with kids and wouldn’t be annoyed with children coming in and out of the office and running around screaming as kids do. He also reassured me that knowing the entertainment industry wasn’t crucial. He said that with my education, he could tell I was smart, and he could teach a smart person anything. But compassion he added, that was something he could never teach.

The interview went well, and that night I called all my friends in Canada to dish about the sexy star I had met, and to reassure both them and myself that I had not completely lost my marbles by fleeing Canada. The next day, when I was back at work at the auto-body shop, the LAWYER called and said ACTOR-DIRECTOR-PRODUCER had loved me, and wanted to offer me the position as his assistant.

And I took it, and once again I decided to follow the road not taken to see where it went. And here I am. Still in L.A., and still thriving. I have built a career out of being an assistant, and worked with and met many interesting, talented and eclectic people. I have done and experienced things others only dream or read about as a result of taking a chance on the road not taken. And this all happened, because I … didn’t say no to taking a job in an auto-body shop.

So the moral of this Road Not Taken story is…..

Never feel like doing an honest day’s work is a job that is beneath you. You never know what you will learn, or who you will meet. Being productive and engaged in life will get you further than being miserable and stuck.

Don’t be afraid to think outside of the box. When you tell yourself that you can’t do something, you won’t. When you allow yourself the possibility to try, you just might.

And….The road not taken isn’t always paved with gold, but I have to say my divergent path has led me on a journey I never could have imagined, and for that I am grateful. So never be afraid, you can always turn around and head back from where you came, but if you don’t try to travel in a new direction, you will never know what you might have missed.

Below is the Audio Link for all of you who are trapped in your car on the freeway, or waiting for ten minutes in the car pool lane…enjoy!

Veterans Day USA …..

Growing up in Canada, November 11th only signified three things to me:

It was a day off from school …

It was a day where I got to wear a cute little manufactured red fuzzy poppy….

And it was a day that signified that my birthday was only 18 more days away, November 29th being the ultimate official holiday – at least according to me – in the month of November.

In Canada, we call it Remembrance Day; in the US, Veterans Day. And on this day, we are supposed to pay homage to the Veterans, the men and women who fought for and served our respective countries allowing us the freedom to be who we are. But do we? We may watch the President for a few seconds on the TV give his national address, we may wear symbols on our lapels on this day….but how many of us really think much beyond that? Some of us may be too busy nursing a hangover from the party last night that we went to, as we didn’t have to work this morning. One person forever changed my perspective on Veterans, the War, and Soldiers in general….

I worked for a very Famous Actress/Singer/Business Mogul for two years; for the sake of this story, I am going to call her BIGSTAR. BIGSTAR is known as much for her works with Veterans as she is for her very celebrated entertainment career. She went to both Vietnam and the Persian Gulf to entertain the troops, and traveled with Bob Hope visiting Military Bases and hospitals throughout the world. So when she was asked to be the Grand Marshall of the Veterans Day Parade in Scottsdale, she accepted the honor, and also accepted the offer of her assistant, me, to accompany her.

They were providing us with lovely rooms at a high-end resort and air fare. I was excited to go because my best friend lives in Scottsdale and I was sure I would have time to visit. Plus, the resort looked gorgeous on line, and I was picturing myself poolside, sipping exotic cocktails and, as such, had my two favorite bikinis packed.

The day before we were to leave, BIGSTAR instructed me to get several boxes of her men’s colognes and soaps that she carried as part of her business skin care line, to take with me, as we were going to give them out to the Veterans. I was annoyed I had to schlep the extra stuff, and as I had just done my mani-pedi the night before – so my nails would look perfect along with my spray tan and my bikini pool side – I was pissed off that the heavy awkward boxes might chip a nail.

We arrived late into Scottsdale, and had the whole next day to ourselves before heading to the parade the following morning, and then participating in the Veterans Day Celebrity Pancake Breakfast before heading back to LA. When we finally checked into our rooms, BIGSTAR told me that she wanted to go to the Veterans home by nine am to drop off the samples of the colognes and soaps. I couldn’t understand why she wanted to go so early; she was not – at least at that time – what you would call an ‘early bird’. But I figured this way, at least, we would still have the rest of the day to play – me poolside and her, well, I had never asked her what her play day was going to be all about.

So at nine am we made our way – me in jeans and a t-shirt carrying the boxes, and her glammed up in a dazzling outfit – which seemed a bit odd for this time of the morning, considering we were just dropping these boxes off with, hmm …the front desk person, I assumed. But then it hit me….. BIGSTAR must have a date or a secret liaison for today, all of a sudden the dazzling outfit and the early start time made sense.

Well, we did speak to the front desk person upon arrival, and they were expecting us, of course. The head of the Veterans home came out to speak to BIGSTAR and thank her for all of her hard work over the years. I was trying my best to listen, but the boxes were heavy and my arms were hurting, and as I started to drift into mindless thought BIGSTAR said, “Okay come along honey (she called me honey), let’s get started.”

The first room we went to was a large TV room filled with Veterans of various ages watching TV. The first thing I noticed was that many of them were sitting in wheel chairs – wheel chairs because they were missing limbs – a leg, both legs, a leg and both arms, both legs and both arms – it was shocking to actually see a group of men assembled like this. And the second thing that I noticed was that their ages were vast and varied. There were men far older than anyone I would ever call Grandpa, and men young enough to be called boyfriend.

As the TV program was paused, BIGSTAR went up to each and every man, spoke to them, engaged with them, shook their hand – if they had a hand to shake – and thanked them for serving our country, as I followed behind with the boxes and handed out a memento to each and every one of them.

We spent the majority of the day going from room to room, me watching BIGSTAR conversing, listening, hugging, and thanking each and every man in that Veteran’s home for the service they had rendered to their country. The older ones were ‘tickled pink’ to see her, and told tales of the time they remembered her coming to the base to perform during their war. Each and every man in there was touched by her kindness, her compassion, and the fact that she took time to come and see them.

The weight of the heavy boxes started to lift, but the heaviness of deep felt heart sadness started to weigh me down. It was hard to see men – men who had been in battle, fighting for our country – confined to a life in a home. They were lonely. They were limited in what they could and could not do. They were alive, yet they were forgotten by most.

And, at the end of the day, my nails were chipped, and the bikini pool day was not even a thought in my mind. This day forever changed me. Not only did I gain a new and utter respect for BIGSTAR, but I gained a new perspective on war, and on its casualties – the Veterans – that seem to get lost in the tragic death toll that takes first place in our history books and online news accounts.

So, on Veterans Day, and for the other 364 days of the year, don’t forget the freedom you have as you are driving your Porsche listening to Pharell while your right Prada shoe keeps the speed and your left Prada shoe taps along to the tunes….that someone out there paid for all of that with his life, or her life, or is living a life that most likely you would not want to live.

Sooooooooo……

Spend a day at a Veterans home, volunteer – do something, if only once – it will change you.

When you see a soldier in the in the airport bar, returning from war, buy him a drink and thank him for serving his country….

Hire Veterans and give them a chance; they gave you the freedom to be able to hire someone.

If we are in a war – and regardless if you are for or against the war – respect the soldier, he is doing his job, not dictating policy.

And be grateful, every day for what we have in the US and Canada – the simple gift of freedom…

WARNING…This Story contains R- RATED language not suitable for children and also not suitable for – persons lacking humor!

Fuck! What the fuck did you say? Can you fucking believe that? That fucking bitch! What the fuck? No fucking way? Go fuck yourself. What a fucker. That’s so fucked up. Fucking funny dude! Fuck him!! Fuck her!!! Fuck…..

I never swore in my life – okay, the odd curse word came out of my mouth from time to time, but one of my first and favorite Entertainment Industry Boss’s most frequently used verbs, even with Boss’s Ivy League education, was ‘fuck’. And I began to notice that it was also very popular with Boss’s agent, Boss’s manager, Boss’s publicist, Boss’s friends, basically – everyone in Boss’s world. Everyone loved the verb ‘fuck’, and it had a different meaning depending on how you used it and the intonation that accompanied it.

For example “Where the fuck is Boss?” usually was from a panicked manager who had an important deal that needed Boss’s immediate attention. Whereas, “No fucking way” could either be a sign of indignation and a strong desire to not do something, or it could be followed by a laugh or sigh, showing the obvious implausibility of a certain scenario. For example: Guess who was at lunch with so and so at Spago on Friday?….. “No fucking way”… could either be followed by a shocked facial expression to convey shock and disbelief, or by a small laugh or giggle that was meant to undermine or show the ridiculousness of the situation.

I started to notice that, not only was it used as a verb with the Hollywood Elite – or Los Angeles in general – but it also became a word that took on many grammatical structures: ‘Fuck Face’ – the Noun; He is so ‘fucking’ stupid – the Adverb; Where is my ‘fucking’ jacket – the Adjective….basically the only time I rarelyheard ‘Fuck’ used in a sentence was when it was used to describe the actual act of…well fucking….that action would more commonly be described as ‘boning, hooking up, or doing’.

When one certain word is frequently repeated throughout the day, it doesn’t take long for that word to become part of one’s vocabulary. When Madonna moved to London, remember how, within a short time, she re-emerged with a British accent? Mimicking, modeling, whatever a therapist wants to or has called it, ‘fuck’ soon became part of my vocabulary as well. And my mother was really upset by this, as it did and does slip out of my mouth from time to time, and, apparently, I was brought up to be a lady. And only uneducated people, according to my mother, needed to resort to profanity in order to get their point across. Well….Let’s just say…

My mother still lives in Canada, where it’s fucking cold!

Where people are really just so fucking nice and polite – that I don’t think Mom will ever really be able to fucking relate to fucking fucked up Hollywood!.